


Taming the Storm

by madelegg



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Caretaking, F/M, Feral Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Fluff, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 17:01:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21165056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelegg/pseuds/madelegg
Summary: After months of barely speaking, Byleth finally forces Dimitri to eat a proper meal and take a bath.





	Taming the Storm

“Dimitri, I need to speak with you.”

The feral prince stood silently at the edge of the small monastery cemetery, overlooking the wide expanse of land Garreg Mach once presided over. He said nothing; Byleth stepped up next to him, placing a hand on the stone fence.

“You may have grown accustomed to being alone, Your Highness, but this cannot continue.”

“Do not address me in that manner, Professor. I am not a prince. Faerghus is dead, as is its bloodline.”

“And I am not your professor, so do address me as Byleth,” she replied, her voice ever calm.

A silence wafted between them as a stiff breeze blew her green hair into her face. She gently tucked it behind her ear.

“What did you wish to speak with me about,” Dimitri finally asked, his tone short, impatient as he always seemed to be now.

“I need to speak with you privately.”

Dimitri glanced around; the cemetery was empty, but a few soldiers milled about near the door to the reception hall. “Is this not private enough for you?” His glare didn’t phase Byleth.

“No. Will you meet me in the Captain’s old office when you are done here?”

“Hmph. Very well.”

Byleth nodded, turning to leave, but stopping at her parents’ grave. She crouched down, touching the smooth stone that rested above her father’s body, and let out a soft sigh. She had done this many times five years ago, praying softly for Jeralt’s wisdom to reach her from beyond. His death still felt like it had only occurred mere months ago. She could feel Dimitri’s eye on her, but neither acknowledged her actions.

Byleth straightened up and walked off toward the reception hall. Even if he dragged his feet, she knew Dimitri would follow.

In her father’s old office, she lit a small burner and began to boil a pot of water, preparing some chamomile tea. The earthy scent filled the room with a calming aura. By the time she was pouring the freshly steeped tea into a second cup, there was a soft knock on the office door.

“Come in,” she called, setting the teapot back on the burner, which she snuffed out.

Dimitri opened the door and stepped in, closing it behind himself as Byleth placed the cups of tea side by side on the coffee table.

“Is this really what you called me in for, professor? Tea?” Dimitri scoffed. 

Byleth ignored him, sitting down on the couch and patting the seat next to her.

“Sit,” she ordered, and, despite obvious reluctance, Dimitri seemed to lack an excuse to refuse. He sat down.

“Take that cloak of yours off; you must be sweltering,” Byleth said, pushing his teacup toward him.

“I am fine,” he grumbled. “This is really not the time for this.”

“You seemed to find plenty of time to stare off into space earlier,” she said. “Certainly you can spare some time for a cup of tea with your old professor. Unless, of course, you’ve developed some sort of distaste for chamomile in the past few years.”

Dimitri huffed and finally picked up his cup, closing his eye as he breathed in the familiar scent. He put it to his lips to take a sip, but jerked back at its heat, looking at it with a stern glance as if he was disappointed in it. Byleth smiled and Dimitri directed his sharp gaze at her.

“What?” 

“You’re just like you were five years ago, never waiting for the tea to cool down.”

Dimitri put the cup down with a huff. “I am nothing like the fool I was five years ago. What would you know about who I am now, Professor? You’re barely aware of the world, like always. We all lived through hell while you slept the war away.”

Byleth looked away, her smile fading instantly. Perhaps he was right; certainly things had not been easy for him and the others. He’d been nearly executed, lost his dearest friend and his kingdom, all to his own stepsister. And what had she done? Even she didn’t know. The last thing she remembered was a demonic beast, a dragon, and hurtling into the inky darkness of a great ravine. And Sothis’s voice.

But none of that mattered now.

“I am sorry, professor,” Dimitri said after a moment of tension. “That was uncalled for. I do not know what you’ve been through, just as you don’t know what I have been through.”

Byleth raised her eyebrows, surprised at such a quick admission of guilt. It reminded her of who he used to be. Perhaps that was still within him.

“That is what I called you here for,” Byleth finally said.

Dimitri furrowed his brows, unsure of what she meant.

“I do not know what you’ve been through,” she continued. “I know bits and pieces, but I know I’ll never fully grasp the horrors of it all. I called you in here because you needed a break.”

“Tch,” Dimitri scoffed, turning his head away from her. “How nice it must be to still have such carefree thoughts.”

Byleth’s tone hardened. “These are not carefree thoughts, Dimitri. These are orders, if I must make them so. To rest is to take care of your body so you can fight another day. If you will not rest, then I will make you rest. Is that clear?”   
  
Dimitri grumbled a bit, but the force of Byleth’s will was not something even he could push back against. When it all came down to it, Byleth was stronger. If she wanted to put him down, she could, and they both knew it.

Dimitri’s shoulders slumped a bit and he picked up his teacup, and Byleth knew she’d won.

She lifted her own teacup and took a long sip, then set it back down. “Now, will you take off that cloak? We will be here for a while. One of the dining hall staff was kind enough to agree to bring up dinner when it’s done.”

Unable to deny her, Dimitri set his cup down and stood, unhooking his furred cloak. Byleth stood as well, offering her arms out to take it. She draped it over the opposite couch gently; it smelled a bit and needed a wash; she wondered when he’d last taken it off.

“Good, your armor next.”

“My armor?” Dimitri looked appalled. 

“I’m sure you’ve been wearing it for far longer than a day. Take it off. It needs to be washed and it’s bad for you to wear it for so long.”

Dimitri glared at her, but, again, conceded, reaching off to his side to unbuckle his chestplate. With Byleth’s help, they removed it all: his chestplate and pauldrons, arm guards, gauntlets, leg plates, shin guards, and the hefty leather pieces he wore beneath the plate mail. Finally stripped to his black pants and dirty undershirt, he looked far less imposing. Instead, he looked tired and dirty, his hair stringy and shirt stained with sweat and old blood. It all needed to be cleaned, along with the man himself, but that could be taken care of later.

Dimitri seemed defeated now, less combative now that his armor was stripped away, resting on the opposite couch like the broken pieces of a turtle’s shell. Byleth sat back down and patted the seat beside him; the man obliged. Then she scooted back and patted her lap. Dimitri stared at her.

“Lay down,” she ordered, her face empty and unreadable. Dimitri avoided eye contact, his silence a stall for time. “That’s an order.”

Dimitri slowly leaned down, his large frame taking up the whole couch as his head rested in Byleth’s lap, his stringy, blond hair falling across his eye. Byleth brushed it gently out of his face, stroking it behind his ear.

His whole body was tense, as if he planned to hop up at any moment, but Byleth was unphased as she continued to stroke his hair, feeling him slowly relax.

“You’ve been fighting nonstop, Dimitri,” she murmured, “and we’re all very proud of you. But now it’s time to rest.”

“Mm.”

“And we will all work hard on your behalf while you do. You don’t have to carry the weight of your purpose alone anymore.”

Dimitri was silent, thinking, gazing at their cups of tea side by side.

“And I will remain by your side forever. From now on.”

Dimitri twitched and swallowed hard. “You cannot promise such a thing.”

“Yes, you said as much in the Goddess Tower at the ball all those years ago,” Byleth said, and Dimitri tensed. “And yet, I don’t care. I will make promises I know I can keep. And I will always be strong enough to keep them.”

Dimitri sat up with a start, fury in his voice. “No you will not! You cannot make promises like that when you’ve already left me… us once!”

Byleth looked at him cooly. “Do you doubt the power of the goddess that dwells within me, Dimitri? Is my return not proof that I will always return to you?”

Dimitri’s face scrunched up in anger, and in fear. Byleth could see redness burning in his one eye.

“The goddess has done nothing but take from me. She is a cold creator who does not care about her creations. If she watches over us now, then she does so only to laugh.”

“Then it is by my own power that I returned to you, cutting through the blackness of death. If you do not believe in Sothis’s guidance, then you will have to believe in me.”

Dimitri bit his lip and looked away, staring at his armor laid out on the couch, then at the door. His throat shifted with a hard swallow.

“You know I wish I could, professor,” Dimitri said, his voice just a whisper.

“My name is Byleth. I am not your professor. I fight by your side now, as whoever you want me to be.”

“Byleth…” Dimitri’s voice finally cracked and his eye filled with tears.”

Byleth stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing against his chest as it heaved with a sob. His strong arms wrapped around her, tightening into a desperate vice grip as his body convulsed with tears he had kept within for years.

“Forever, Dimitri. I’ll never leave you again.”

***

After his outburst, Dimitri’s energy seemed to drain from his body rapidly and he leaned against Byleth on the couch as they waited for dinner, his eye closed and his head drooping. Byleth let him rest, leaving her arm around his waist so he’d know she was there the moment he awoke, and waited for dinner to arrive.

When it did, the light knock on the door woke Dimitri immediately, sending him shooting to his feet, his eye crazed with confusion, his hand reaching for a lance that wasn’t there. Byleth stood too and put a hand on his back. His head snapped to look at her, and it took a few seconds for him to realize there was no danger. Far longer than Byleth thought natural. She squeezed his arm as she passed him and went to the door to accept dinner from the dining hall staff member.

“Prof-” Dimitri began, but corrected himself. “Byleth.”

“Hm?” Byleth carried the tray of food into the room and set it on the coffee table beside their cold cups of tea.

“I, uh, ahem,” he cleared his throat. “My apologies for dozing off.”

“I instructed you to rest. You needn’t apologize for following orders.”

“Ah, uh, very well.”

Dimitri’s face was flushed, which was a welcomed change from the cold glare that had been on his face ever since they’d reunited. Byleth thought about how nice it would be to see him smile again, but she knew that was a long ways away.

“Come, eat,” she said, waving for him to join her.

Dinner was beef tips and french onion soup; the heavy scents overpowered the lingering chamomile in the room and filled the office with the warmth of a home cooked meal. Dimitri sat down next to her, leaving a space between them. He hesitated to pick up a fork.

“I don’t suspect you’ve been eating well these past five years, and I rarely see you in the dining hall. It’s time to make up for that.”

Dimitri let out a low sigh and cut a piece of beef in half, chewing the bite in his mouth for a long time before swallowing, then reluctantly picking up another piece. Byleth watched him out of the corner of his eye.

“You used to eat so much whenever we ate together in the dining hall,” she said. “But you never looked like you enjoyed it then either.”

Dimitri was silent, putting more food in his mouth to avoid answering. Byleth didn’t push him. It took him a long time to finish the whole meal, but to his credit, he did, and he didn’t complain. Byleth stood up when they’d both finished eating and held her hand out for Dimitri. He stared at it.

“Come, we’re going to the baths.”

Dimitri’s face reddened and he opened his mouth to speak, but Byleth cut him off with a hand.

“I am loathe to tell you this, your highness, but you need a bath and I do not trust you to take care of that on your own. I have no interest in your protests, so you will have to follow me.”

Too tired to fight a battle he couldn’t win, he conceded and went to pick up his armor, but Byleth put a hand on his arm. She didn’t want to keep ordering him around, but it was for his own good.

“I’ll come back for it afterwards and we can wash it together later, okay? I know you feel unsafe, but I promise, for the time being, you are protected.”

Dimitri let out a long sigh. “Very well then. Let’s go.”

The two of them walked together to the baths next to the dormitory. Since it was evening, most of the monastery residents were either still in the dining hall or settling in for the night. Still, there were enough people milling about to stare as the prince, who never went out without armor, passed by, head down, just a step behind Byleth.

There were a few people in the public baths, but there were still plenty of private tubs available. Byleth took the one farthest to the back of the building and locked the door, then turned toward Dimitri. He stared at her; she didn’t want to tell him what obviously needed to be done, but she would if he didn’t do it himself.

“I suppose asking you to leave is out of the question.”

“I’d be happy to step out so you can get undressed and in the tub in privacy.”

Dimitri sighed and turned around, walking toward the tub and testing the water. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, pulling his undershirt over his head and tossing it in a heap on the tile floor.

Byleth looked at his bare upper body, hiding the gasp that she felt in her mind before she turned around for his privacy. He was scarred, yes, but moreso, his scars were grisly, dirty, some still crusted with blood. When she heard the slosh of the water as he sat in the tub, she turned back around. Already the water was clouding a rusty color.

Byleth took off her coat and hung it on the back of the door.

“Uh prof- um, Byleth? What are you doing?”

“I don’t want my coat to get wet,” she said plainly, as if her intentions were obvious. 

She sat down on a stool next to the tub and Dimitri blushed, looking away. Byleth reached up and gently touched his hair. He hadn’t removed his eyepatch.

“I suppose we’ll do your hair last then,” she said softly. Dimitri said nothing.

Byleth grabbed a rag and shifted so she was at his back and had him lean forward as she gently cleaned all his wounds, new and old. None were new enough to risk being reopened, outside of anything drastic, but she hoped none were infected due to improper care. It was clear none had ever been stitched up; the scars where thick and healed poorly, probably reopened from movement and a lack of care. Byleth swallowed hard, thinking of each battle, each weapon piercing Dimitri’s flesh, creating each one of these scars. He didn’t flinch once as she cleaned them.

There were still more to be cleaned on his chest, which Byleth used a fresh rag for, and by the time she was done, the water was fully opaque with old blood and soap.

“We’ll need to change the water,” she said and Dimitri stared at it as if it’s filthiness was something he’d never considered, then nodded. Byleth turned around as he got out and put a towel around his waist and then she drained the water and refilled it.

She caught a glance at Dimitri, hair still greasy but body clean, and already there was a big difference. Certainly he had to feel better after having gone without a bath for so long, wearing his armor day in and day out. If he did, he didn’t show it. He simply avoided her gaze.

When the tub was filled back up, he got back in, knowing what was coming next. Byleth reached out, but stopped inches from his hair.

“May I remove your eyepatch?” 

“It won’t be a pretty sight.” 

“I’ve seen worse.”

Dimitri snorted at the response but waved a hand, permitting her to untie it.

The knot in the back was tight and wasn’t tied to be removed easily, but after fiddling with it for long enough, she managed to loosen it and slide it off his head, revealing what was left of his eye.

The wound was grisly; the cut, clearly old and healed imperfectly, had gone straight through his eyelid and into his eye. The eye was cloudy and dead and his cut eyelid had healed back together roughly, leaving it uneven and permanently drooping. Byleth hadn’t lied; she’d definitely seen worse in her days as a mercenary. Still, the pain that such a wound would have caused Dimitri brought a weight to her chest that she couldn’t shake.

“I told you, it is quite revolting,” Dimitri said gruffly, his good eye looking away from her.

Byleth cupped his cheek gently and when he looked at her, his eyes widened a bit. His infallible professor, always such a solid rock of a warrior, had a sadness in her eyes that he hadn’t seen since the death of her father. He hadn’t expected to see such emotion directed toward him.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” he said, unable to meet her gaze.

“I am sorry, Dimitri,” she whispered.

“For what? You didn’t cause this. The Empire is at fault.”

“You were right. I wasn’t there. These past five years, I haven’t been there to protect you or Faerghus. And for that, I can never apologize enough.”

“Yes, you weren’t there, but… if you had been able to, I know you never would have abandoned us.”

Byleth fell silent and nodded. “Dimitri.”

He turned to look at her.

“Your enemies are my enemies. And I will not rest until I have served you the Adrestian Empire on a silver platter. You have my undying loyalty.”

Dimitri sank low into the bathtub, his body relaxing as if a portion of his great burden had been relieved. “I am glad to hear it. Thank you… Thank you.”

Byleth touched his greasy hair and, without words, gently cupped the bathwater to pour it over his head. She did this over and over, adding soap and scrubbing through the hair section by section, for half an hour until finally the oils started to fade away, leaving behind the soft, blond hair he used to have. By the time she was done, his eye was closed and she touched his cheek to see if he was still awake. It took a moment, but he opened his eye, having been not quite asleep but not quite awake either.

“You’re finished,” she said.

“Hm,” he muttered, touching his clean, wet hair. For a moment he froze, his hand near his dead eye, and then seemed to remember what had happened, that it had been removed, and it was in safe hands.

“Shall we wait until your hair is dry to put your eyepatch back on?” she asked.

Dimitri shook his head. “No, I’d like to put it on now,” he said, so Byleth handed it back to him and he tied it back on, adjusting it until it covered the entirety of the scar across his eye. 

Byleth looked a his dirty clothes lying in a heap on the floor. “I suspect you would not be willing to walk through the monastery in a bathrobe.”

Dimitri glared at her and she sighed and stood up, picking up the shirt and pants he’d left on the ground. She left the underwear; he could get new ones.

“Well, the walk to my room is a short one, so it should be all right.”

“Your room?” Dimitri paused in the process of standing up and Byleth turned around, stepping away to give him space.

“Yes. It’s much closer than yours and I need to keep an eye on you.”

Dimitri scoffed, but was well aware of the reputation he’d made for himself, though he knew he wouldn’t sleep no matter who’s bed he borrowed. He didn’t want to return to his dusty old dormitory anyway.

He finished drying off and getting dressed, his clothes now half-damp from the wetness that clung to his body. He was uncomfortable, more so than he’d expected to be, but he followed Byleth without complaint. It was as she had said: her room was just a short walk down the stairs and around the corner from the baths.

By the time they got out of the public bathhouse, the sun had set completely and the streets were empty save for stationed soldiers. They walked without interruption to Byleth’s dorm and slipped inside unnoticed. Byleth had stayed in this room for the few months she’d been back; she didn’t know where else she would go. Nothing had been changed; her old curriculum notes still crammed the drawers and covered the surface of her desk. Looking at them was difficult, so she only went to her room to sleep and left promptly when she awoke. Dimitri’s eye lingered on them as she shut the door behind them though.

There was more than just curriculum notes on the desk. Her planner, well worn, was open as well, with graduation celebration plans scribbled throughout. She couldn’t bear to think about such a thing, and when Dimitri’s gaze lingered on them too long, she moved up beside him and shut the planner.

“Such things don’t matter anymore,” she said, stepping past him and moving to her closet. She didn’t have much in terms of clothing, but Jeralt’s clothing and armor, which had been passed to her as his only living heir, sat in a box beneath the hanging rack. She pulled it out, swallowing hard, and found some casual clothes.

“These should fit you,” she said. “And we’ll get the others washed.”

Dimitri took them, looking at them for a moment. He knew who they once belonged to, and knowing what it took for Byleth to hand them over made it impossible for him to refuse. They both turned their backs as she too changed into a plain undershirt and cotton pants. When they were both done, Byleth took the spare blanket from the end of the bed and laid it across the floor.

“You can have the bed. I’ll take the floor.”

“It’s your bed,” Dimitri grumbled. “I can’t just take it.”

“It’s only for a night. I’ll catch up on sleep later.”

Byleth sat down on the floor to make her point and Dimitri waved dismissively. “Fine,” he said, stepping around her and getting into bed. “If that’s what you want. I will not sleep anyway.”

He pulled the covers up over his shoulders and turned away from her, and it seemed as though that was that. Byleth laid down on her back, her head resting uncomfortably against the wood floor. She rolled on her side instead, resting her head against her arm until her arm grew sore and she switched sides, feeling as though she was biding her time until morning broke. Her thoughts swirled with concern over Dimitri; he’d cooled down today, but how much of that was from exhaustion? She couldn’t help but think of Felix’s warning words, demanding that she “cage the boar” before he completely lost his humanity. Had that already happened? Was she too late?

She couldn’t be. There was still plenty of humanity left in Dimitri; she’d seen it today, heard it in his voice every time it grew soft or expressed concern. There was still care left in his heart. He was not lost; she wouldn’t allow it. And if she had to take down all of the Adrestian army and mount Edelgard’s head on a pike, then she would do it. For him.

She heard shifting in the bed above her and opened her eyes. Dimitri peered over the edge of the bed at her then reached out a hand.

“You’ll never sleep on that hard floor,” he said. “Come on.”

Byleth took his hand and climbed into bed, pressing up against Dimitri’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and pulled the blanket over the two of them, wrapping Byleth in a cocoon in which both of them finally felt safe.

“It’s not too late,” she murmured against his chest, her words hanging in the silence of the room for a few long minutes before Dimitri replied.

“Perhaps not.”

The prince drifted off to sleep, for perhaps the longest time in over five years, and Byleth held him close the whole night. She would never let him out of her sight again.


End file.
